


kitty gets a time out

by elfloversanonymous (anotherdirtycomputer)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Dom Anders (Dragon Age), Dom Isabela (Dragon Age), Dom/sub, M/M, Master/Pet, Pet Play, Polyamory, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Fenris (Dragon Age), Trans Fenris, isabela doesn't actually show up in this fic sorry babe, that parts like super brief but ajksldfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherdirtycomputer/pseuds/elfloversanonymous
Summary: Fenris expects a much different punishment than the one his Dom dishes out.





	kitty gets a time out

**Author's Note:**

> i want to keep working on this fic but ive been working on it for ages now and i want to post it even more so enjoy! brief warning however for mentions of abuse because ... well ... it's a fenris fic. that's just how it be :/
> 
> apologies for any formatting issues. i'll do my best to fix those up as i notice them!

Fenris is kneeling nude in the middle of the room with his hands folded neatly behind him, but the night begins only when cuffs close around his wrists. He is shocked by the cold touch of them against his skin, the chill of them jolting him back to the present. These cuffs are not the usual comfortable leather ones they use for play, but instead share more likeness with the unyielding metal ones Aveline’s guards use.

He’s not getting it easy tonight.

Fenris’ eyes widen as he swallows. He had

hoped… But, it doesn’t matter now. This is meant to be punishment. It’s fun to take a punishment, but the punishment isn’t meant to be fun. He knows this well enough by now.

The metal slowly warms against his skin, but his heart grows quicker and quicker as that time passes, his gut churning in anxiety as Anders remains silent behind him. What will this punishment be, then? Part of the punishment is certainly the surprise (Anders knows how much he hates them), but the rest he struggles to imagine, having not been dominated by Anders enough times yet to guess.

Will Anders cane or whip him? It would make sense; he can imagine Anders staring at the skin of his back and the curve of his ass resting against his ankles, carefully considering each blow. Painful punishments are still difficult, but he’d told Anders that soft limits (like the whip) were fair game for severe punishments. The metal on his wrists tells for tonight’s severity.

If it were Isabela, he’d be forced to clean; put in revealing dress, shoved to his knees, and made to scrub and scrub until his fingers pruned and cracked and his scanty clothing was shamefully ruined with sweat and filth. He can’t do that cuffed like this, however, so it seems unlikely tonight. 

Finally, Anders’ silence is broken. He still doesn’t speak, but the sound of his robes being removed lets Fenris know the scene is about to begin. When Anders’ unbuckles his boots, the anticipation in Fenris’ chest reaches a terrible peak, and he shivers through the anxiety.

He wants this. Desperately.

The soft footfalls of Anders slowly walking around him almost causes him to look up, but he keeps his eyes turned down submissively. He stares at the hands on his lap to avoid glancing up, knowing he’s still untrained. Isabela prefers him mouthy and wanton and bright-eyed; Anders wants complete discipline.

“Eyes up.”

Untrained though he may be, Fenris knows better than to meet Anders’ eyes. He looks up only as far as Anders’ chest, turning his shoulders back and bringing his chin up to bare himself to Anders’ gaze.

“Up.”

Fenris stands as gracefully as he can with his legs aching from kneeling. He awaits his next command. Isabela likes when he guesses what she wants, anticipating her demands, but Anders is a different story.

When Anders clicks and guides him forwards towards his desk, Fenris follows.

“Sit.” Anders snaps.

Fenris looks at where he’s pointing under the desk. Fear tugs his heart instantly, pulling him out of his submissive haze. Does he expect Fenris to suck his cock? He can’t remember, suddenly, if oral is a soft limit or a hard limit. 

His watchword is  _ malus. _ Anders knows this. It can bring this all to an end, if he needs it.

“ _ Sit. _ Now!” There is real anger in Anders’ voice, or what sounds like real anger. When Fenris’ eyes glance upward, a fool’s mistake, Anders’ own are bright and burning.

Fenris scurries under the desk immediately. It’s a bit difficult, given the restraints and the small amount of room under the desk, but more for the lack of praise he receives afterward.

Sitting down in the wobbly desk chair at his leisure, Anders sighs like the world is on his shoulders. Fenris is still nervous he might have to end the scene - and wouldn’t it feel awful to watchword out of his punishment - but worries less for himself and more for Anders at the noise.

With the chair tucked in, Anders’ thin frame keeping the candlelight on his desk from shining under, it’s dark. He can see his markings glowing, an awful, ever-present reminder, and feels ill for another reason. He wants to be punished, but Anders is coming close to ticking some very bad boxes.

This is to be expected, of course, Fenris thinks, so new in their arrangement. It isn’t as if Anders is doing this on purpose - and the proof he isn’t bobs quickly under the desk as Anders casts a bit of magelight to keep his pet company. He doesn’t order Fenris to suck him off, thankfully, even as his soft cock lies illuminated by the magelight’s eerie glow. 

He doesn’t order anything, in fact. The scratching of a quill on cheap vellum is all that follows, Anders writing out something or other as if Fenris isn’t here at all.

Fenris doesn’t understand. Is this the punishment? To be  _ ignored _ ? He had expected a fierce whipping, manual labor, or a painful abundance of forced orgasms, and Anders tucks him under the desk like a bit of fluff under a rug?

Cages are on the  _ no _ list - trapping him under the desk could be Anders’ less triggering alternative. If his cat misbehaved, he could toss it in a crate or pet cage until he was willing to deal with it. With Fenris, his kitty, he can’t. 

Yes, Fenris thinks, that must be it. This is simply the beginning. Anders is a busy man and likely still very cross with him. Once he finishes his letters and has patience again to address the issue, the true punishment will begin. Until then, Fenris must simply obey.

Under the desk is cramped, especially with Anders’ long legs stuck under with him. He feels a little trapped, but mostly irritated. He wants to take the proper kneeling position, get fully into his kitty headspace and be a good pet for Anders, but there’s simply no  _ room _ .

Not that Anders would see it, he thinks a tad bitterly. But it would be nice to put forth the effort for him nonetheless. Especially considering why they’re here...

In front of him, Anders’ soft cock seems to mock him.

Anders still hasn’t ordered he suck him off or even hold him in his mouth, like he had that once. He could do that, at least; it would be a fine punishment. To hold Anders’ cock in his mouth, feeling his jaw cramp, tongue coated in that dreadful taste. As long as Anders didn’t buck into his mouth and Fenris wasn’t expected to do much beyond warm it, he could.

Part of him wants to. Namely the cunt between his legs that heats distantly at the idea, but his heart too, as foolish as that may sound. He wants to please Anders - he wants to make up for what happened.

This is a punishment, he tells himself firmly. If Anders wants him to sit under the desk quietly, bound and squashed between the wood and his Dom’s skinny legs, then he  _ will _ obey. Still, he can’t imagine what Anders is getting out of this. The scratching has gone on so long, the sound of parchment being turned and rolled and unrolled multiple times over the only real hints Fenris has to determine time passing. Anders has remained soft the entire time; once his leg even began to bounce restlessly.

He’s stressed, Fenris knows that. Why isn’t he taking that stress out on his pet? When his Captain needs to let off steam, she beats him and laughs and has a good time. Fenris is useful.

Here, now, Anders isn’t even using him as furniture. He’s not been made a cock-warmer or a footstool or an ink well. Anders could have even ordered him to kneel, back straight with his knees and hands on the floor, and sat on him instead of the chair.  _ That _ would have been a fine punishment, struggling under Anders’ weight, knowing that failure to obey could harm them both.

Instead, he’s just tucked away like Anders can’t even bear to look at him. The thought makes tears rise to Fenris’ eyes and he startles, blinking rapidly to chase them away. As a tear chases hot down his cheek, Fenris can only think,  _ Was my behavior truly so deplorable? _

No matter. Fenris fails to force the thoughts from his mind, but tries anyways. If this is what Anders wants, then he will obey. A punishment is not meant to be fun. But, Anders isn’t even punishing him, as if to do so would be a waste of time. Like he’d rather be doing anything else, even answering letters he hates and scratching out old lines of his manifesto.

Time passes so slowly.

More and more letters are replied to (Fenris  _ knows _ that’s what he’s doing - he occasionally folds his vellum into envelopes, if the sound is anything to go by), and more and more weary, frustrated sighs leave Anders’ mouth, and no orders come for Fenris at all. 

Instead, he spends all this time cramped under the ridiculous desk, staring at Anders’ soft cock and feeling worthless until the magelight gently flutters and flickers out of existence.

When the light dies, it’s over. Fenris begins to cry. Tears roll down his face entirely against his will and he sniffles, struggling to keep himself quiet. He’s not doing a very good job of it, which only spurs his crying on more.

Anders throws another magelight under the desk, almost as if to placate Fenris into shutting up so he can continue his work.

It doesn’t work. Knowing that he’s disturbing Anders, distracting him from his work, makes Fenris gasp around an ache in his chest, crying angrily. Of course, he’s here to be punished, and can’t even do that without being a nuisance. He can’t even be punished at all, because that is a nuisance in itself, a waste of time and effort. He’s worse than useless now, he’s a hindrance.

Anders’ hand reaches under the desk then, as if asking  _ is this okay? _ , and Fenris nearly bites it, using his head to shove it away. He doesn’t know what game Anders is playing, but they’re playing it.

It helps Fenris in the moment, to remember  _ it’s a game _ , but it still hurts. He’s bad at playing it. He doesn’t understand. Anders is soft and annoyed and worried when he’s supposed to be taking his pleasure at Fenris’ expense. That’s how punishments  _ work _ .

Fenris keeps crying, because he can’t seem to stop now that he’s begun. He spends so long putting crying off even during a physically painful scene, it’s a wonder he can stifle his sobs even a little.

Anders’ hand does not make a return.

He continues his work, sighing and scratching and occasionally stretching his legs, trapping Fenris further. If it hadn’t been for the hand under the desk, it would seem like Anders didn’t notice his weeping at all. Part of that makes Fenris feel better, but he also feels  _ worse _ , unable to shake the feeling that he’s a bad kitty.

When he finally can cry no longer, eyes as sore as his hunched shoulders, feeling rung out in every way, Fenris leans against Anders’ leg, head laying just above his bony knee. Anders twitches, then huffs out a breath that Fenris can’t decipher.

Is he angry? The idea makes Fenris flush in shame, but he can’t move from his spot. He needs the comfort as much as he needs the support. He feels himself sigh, too, deflating entirely against Anders’ leg. He knows he’s being bad. He knows that this is making Anders unhappy when he should be doing all he can to do the opposite, but he can’t seem to stop misbehaving. He doesn’t know how.

He nuzzles Anders’ leg in heartbroken apology, hoping he’ll know what it means. Kisses can’t be fought either - Fenris finds himself pressing his lips against Anders’ knee as if begging forgiveness.

Just before he’s ready to begin crying again, Anders bends down under the top of the desk to meet Fenris’ eyes.

Quickly, Fenris looks at his stubble instead, just in time to see his mouth say the words, “Feeling sorry?”

Fenris crumples. “ _ Yes _ .” His voice breaks, quiet and so honestly sorry that Fenris would feel shame if he were not already full to the brim of it.

“Good boy.” Fenris startles. “That’s right, kitty, you did so well. Can I hear an apology?”

His breathing quickens. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m so sorry, I was misbehaving-”

“No, pet-”

Fenris wails. “I am  _ bad _ , I’m awful, nothing I do can-”

“Fenris!” The boom of Anders’ voice makes him flinch, echoing in the small space. “No more of that, now. What are you sorry for?”

Fenris takes a deep, shuddering breath. When he realizes his eyes are closed, he opens them. “I… I was a nuisance, crying under the desk and distracting you…”

Anders shakes his head, finally pushing the chair out and pulling Fenris into his lap. Away from the stuffy confinement, Fenris feels a sudden rush of vertigo and lays heavily against his Dom as the man carefully removes his bindings. “No, pet, you did very well. You were perfect.”

When Anders reaches forward to push Fenris’ hair behind his ear, that ear twitches in confusion. “What?” But he had misbehaved the entire time… He’d hindered Anders’ important work!

“What am I punishing you for, love? Do you know?”

Fenris takes another shivering breath. “Yes… I- belittled your work. I was cruel towards you and your cause, despite its importance.” He leans forward further to push his face into Anders’ shoulder, his arms curling tightly around his neck..

Anders stills, as if surprised. “Oh! Yes, very good.” He hesitates. “Did you do anything else?”

Eyes closing again, Fenris nods sullenly. “When you told me you were hurt, I was … unkind. I hurt you more because I was ashamed of my actions. I’m sorry.”

When his voice wavers, Anders runs a hand up and down his pet’s back. “Oh, Fenris,” he breathes. “All is forgiven.”

He’s been waiting all night to hear those words. The relief that rushes through him is so strong that his bottom lip shakes again and he wails, “ _ Thank you!” _ against Anders’ shoulder. Then, in the same, sobbing tone, “My  _ back  _ hurts.”

Anders coos, laughing affectionately at his piteous sounds. “I imagine, all cooped up down there. You could have been leaning on me the whole time, you know.” 

Then they’re both up in the air, chair fallen behind them as Anders carries him to the bed. His hands beneath Fenris’ thighs, hoisting him into the air, are strong and steadying. He imagines those nimble fingers must ache from writing so much tonight.

“May I heal you - with magic?” Anders’ warm voice is so close to his ear, an immediate comfort.

Fenris doesn’t have to think about his answer before he nods. “Yes, please.”

If he notices his pet’s uncharacteristic lack of hesitation, Anders doesn’t say anything. He simply lays him down softly on the bed, hands finding the worst of Fenris’ aches instinctively and pushing his healing magic through the flesh. It feels amazing, and for a brief moment, Fenris feels that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Can I do anything else for you, pet?” 

Fenris clenches his jaw, struggling to fight yet more tears. He feels very foolish, weeping so much, but it comes to him so suddenly and so fiercely that he can’t seem to stop it. He needs emotional release - that’s the best part of punishments, is feeling his mistakes leave him like dirt washed from a stone.

This was hardly a punishment at all, he thinks, even as shame fills him. At best, it was a glorified time out.

“I… I want to make it up to you.”

“You…” Anders cocks his head in confusion, his hands stilling in their healing. “You just did. That’s what this all was, Fenris. Giving you time to think and apologize.”

“ _ No _ .” How to explain? “I did apologize, but I didn’t make it up to you. It’s not the same.”

“Love… Of course it is.”

Fenris shakes his head defiantly. “No. Make use of me, at least. I have wasted your time here.”

The face Anders makes (half offended and half worried) almost makes Fenris groan. He doesn’t get it, the soft-hearted fool. 

“Please, fuck me. I need…”  _ I need to feel useful _ . “I need to know that I’m good.”  _ That, too _ .

He watches as Anders crawls above him, hair falling around his face, to meet his eyes. Looking thoughtful, Anders hums. “Well, let’s compromise then. You and I could stand to do more of that.” When he licks his lips, Fenris can’t help but stare. “All of that writing really worked up an appetite. So, after all this, if you’d want it, do you think I could have a taste?”

“You mean to say…” Swallowing, Fenris shifts a bit underneath his lover. “You want to do that? Put your mouth on me?”

“Very much, actually.” He raises an eyebrow, thoughtful even as his eyes go dark with want. “I know oral is on your hard limits, but I wasn’t sure if that meant giving or receiving or both, so I avoided all of that. You can tell me no and I’ll be happy to do hand stuff. I really just want to see you come tonight.”

Fenris is torn. Receiving is  _ much _ better than giving; Danarius never forced him to receive oral, certainly. He simply finds it embarrassing, someone’s mouth there where he’s filthy. But, if Anders wants it… And what a nice way to show he’s sorry, to give a piece of himself he rarely deigns to. It won’t be as good as a spanking or a proper humiliation scene, but the embarrassment of it may be satisfying.

When Fenris nods, Anders grins. “Watchword?”

That makes Fenris chuckle shyly. “It’s  _ malus _ . You’ve asked already tonight.” He wets his smile, suddenly eager. “What are you going to do down there that warrants a watchword?”

Scoffing, Anders says, “I’m just that good! It may overwhelm you.” Fenris laughs breathlessly. “I just want you to know you can say it. ‘Stop’ works, too, for this.”

Despite wanting to feel annoyed, Fenris smiles wider. “Thank you.” Then, he shuffles to open his legs, curling and uncurling his toes and feeling very embarrassed.

As it turns out, there’s little to feel embarrassment about beyond his own shouts of pleasure. Anders laps and sucks at him like a man crazed, stubble the perfect side of painful against Fenris’ sensitive folds and his hands misleadingly gentle against Fenris’ spread thighs. Fenris bucks and moans against him each time Anders’ tongue enters him - it’s as if Anders is trying to taste the deepest parts of his cunt, trusting in and out of Fenris’ tight hole with vigor. The sounds he makes are wet and filthy, barely heard over Fenris’ own moans and mewls. He very nearly screams when Anders closes his mouth around his clit and  _ sucks _ , teeth just shy of biting.

When he comes, howling, his fingers tight in Anders’ hair, all shyness is forgotten.

He shivers as Anders continues to lap at him, his flat tongue too much against Fenris’ over-sensitive clit. He pushes weakly at Anders’ forehead with the heel of his hand.

Anders pulls away, grinning ear to ear and looking very satisfied. His face is sticky from Fenris’ cunt, his entire mouth wet.

“Yum!” He says, instantly deserving a kick (which he gets). “ _ Oof. _ Good to see you back to yourself, then.”

Although his entire body feels like melty gelatin, Fenris manages a laugh. “It feels good to be back.” He kicks him again, much more playfully, a careful dig of his heel into the small of Anders’ back.

To retaliate, Anders blows a raspberry into his belly, earning a small shout. “And people think you’re so serious. You’re so silly after a scene!”

“You dare belittle me?” He growls, pretending to glare.

Anders chuckles. “Oh, yes.  _ Very _ silly.” He kisses Fenris’ abdomen, over and over, waiting for Fenris to melt under his touch.

He does. He finally relaxes, his body feeling loose and sleepy, and it’s lovely. Anders’ skin is warm against his, but the room grows colder to them both as the hearth slowly dies. Seemingly unwilling to cast a flame to warm them, Anders crawls up Fenris’ body, pulling a previously unseen blanket with him. They cuddle together, Fenris on his back and Anders beside him, hand playing gently across his pet’s chest, caressing the soft skin of his breasts.

Finally, Fenris cannot hold back the question. “Why didn’t you beat me tonight? I thought taking a whip to your  _ kitty _ might make you happy, after how I acted.”

“Maybe I just wanted to eat pussy tonight,” he jokes. “And, looking at yours, can you really blame me?”

“My pussy…” Fenris snorts. “Your pussy’s pussy, you mean?”

“You’re hysterical.” He says it like he means mad instead of humorous, but his grin tells otherwise.

Still, Fenris retorts, “And whose fault is that?” The yawn that comes then cracks Fenris’ jaw, which feels amazing.

Anders hums, his fingers stilling to press his hand flat against Fenris’ side. Fenris mourns the loss of his touch. “...It wasn’t too much?”

Fenris struggles to open his eyes, if only to look at Anders’ approvingly. “It was… a lot. Different than I expected, too.”

“Different how?” Anders raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t  _ really _ think I’d beat you.”

“I did.” Fenris shrugs. He supposes now, thinking about it, that Anders isn’t that sort of Dom. He’s never been. “I thought… Well, if not as a training dummy, I thought you’d at least put me to work.”

Anders shakes his head. “No, Fenris. Even with things like this, punishments, I want… I want to take care of you.” He lays beside Fenris then, shrugging before taking his hand. “Sometimes, that means helping you feel things.”

Fenris feels himself smiling, eyes sliding closed again in contentment. “You’re a very good Dominant. Thank you.”

A brief silence passes, before Anders replies. “I… You cannot imagine what that means to hear.”

“Now you tell me I’m a good sub.” Fenris stage-whispers. “Maybe then I’ll have an idea.”

Anders’ warm laugh feels even better than the blanket over him, greater even when Anders finally says it, calls him  _ good kitty _ , and  _ my good man, _ telling him how well he did, how handsome he is...

It’s to the sound of genuine praise that Fenris falls asleep, a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have anything else you'd like to see, hmu...!
> 
> comments and kudos are a kitty's best friends!


End file.
